Why Us?
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Short little oneshot. Yes, it's another prize for NFA Hangman. McGiva. No angst, just a nice little relationship.


**A/N:** Yet another NFA Hangman prize. Sometimes I think that's all I write anymore. :) Oneshot, McGiva. Just a nice little light thing. ...oh, very, _very_ minor spoilers for season five. Honestly, if you don't know what I'm talking about, you won't even notice they're there.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine! Not mine! I do not own NCIS and I'm not making money off it... I don't _have_ any money. :)

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**Why Us?**

The sounds in the room had been confined to the deep breathing of sleep for about an hour. There was no music, no talking, just breathing. Ziva propped herself up on one elbow and looked at her companion. This had certainly not turned out as she had planned, although to be honest, it wasn't how _Tim_ had planned it either. For one thing, he wasn't supposed to be asleep. For another, they weren't supposed to be on a picnic blanket in the middle of his apartment. They were supposed to be out exploring the great outdoors. As if adding insult to injury, there was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder as another bank of storms moved in to blanket the East Coast. Tropical Storm Dolly or whatever name they were on now had completely spoiled Tim's so-called "perfect weekend." Never one to give up, he had told her Friday evening that she should still come to his place the next day because he had _plans_.

"_I promise, Ziva. It'll happen," Tim whispered as they left the elevator._

"_Tim, it is a hurricane. It does not clear up overnight."_

"_Trust me. I know what I'm doing." He smiled like a little kid and left Ziva feeling confused, but a little excited as well._

Ziva smiled to herself, still listening to Tim's even breathing, as she remembered her shock at what Tim had done to his apartment.

She looked around it now, and shook her head in amazement at his devotion, whether to her or to an ideal, she wasn't quite certain. Every bookshelf was covered with green fabric. Every possible surface had been disguised. He had purchased or borrowed fake trees and taped enlarged photos of forests on the walls. Ziva had laughed when she first got a look at what he'd done. His excited face had fallen, thinking she was disappointed.

"_Tim, what have you _done_?" she asked._

"_It's the great outdoors... indoors. Don't you like it?" he asked earnestly._

She hadn't been disappointed. Not at all. She just couldn't believe how much effort he'd gone to in order to give her the day he'd promised: a day outside and a picnic in nature. He could have simply cancelled and planned another day. She wouldn't have been hurt. Tropical storms had a way of changing people's plans. He didn't cancel. Instead, he turned his own life upside-down to keep his promise. She couldn't really believe she was worth all this effort.

For an instant, Tim's breathing threatened to become sonorous snoring, which jarred Ziva out of reliving the evening. She turned her attention onto the man she... dare she even think the word? In a state of complete relaxation, Tim presented a strangely affecting figure. One hand acted as a pillow under his head while the other lay limply across his chest. He looked much younger when he was asleep. There was a maturity there that had developed over the last couple of years, but the innocence had remained. His handsome features were just as compelling in repose as they were when he was awake. She hadn't truly appreciated his good looks when they had first met. She hadn't evaluated people in that way. They were simply facts and figures in a dossier. It had taken a year for her to realize that Tim had a charm about him which was easy to miss. It had taken another year for her to realize that the looks Tim gave her were more than curiosity. Now, they were breaking rule twelve. It had been broken for about four months. Tony didn't know. Abby didn't know. Ducky and Jimmy didn't know. Whether or not Gibbs knew was still up in the air, but she guessed that their determination to keep the romance out of the office had prevented him from saying anything... until he decided to embarrass them, of course.

Another particularly deep sigh drew Ziva from her thoughts again. She smiled at the sleeping figure. It was a smile which softened her entire expression and one which she rarely showed to the world at large. This was a smile reserved for the tenderest thoughts... such as Tim trying valiantly to stay awake after dinner.

"_You are yawning again, Tim. Am I that boring?" Ziva asked teasingly._

"_I'm not yawning... just... thinking with my mouth open," Tim said... and then yawned again._

_Ziva laughed. "You are falling asleep. That is not very romantic, you know."_

"_I'm awake," Tim said sternly and propped himself up, his eyes wide open in a parody of alertness._

It wasn't his fault. They had come off a highly-stressful case and one that had required extremely long hours at the computer. They had all worked beyond the normal work day, but she figured that Tim and Abby had not left NCIS for nearly three days straight. The comedown after such a continual adrenaline rush had left Tim fairly lethargic even after a full night's sleep... with the result that she was laying on the picnic blanket on the floor of Tim's apartment, listening to the renewed rain against the window, watching the man she thought she just might... _love_ sleeping next to her.

_Why us?_ she wondered. _Why do we work? We are _so_ different._ Even now, months after they had both bowed to the mutual attraction, she was at a loss to explain what it was that made them a couple. Tim was honest, handsome, wealthy, kind, intelligent. He was, she supposed, every woman's dream... only no woman seemed to have realized that before Ziva did. Even Abby had spurned him, preferring to keep things nebulous, something Tim could not understand. No, it was Ziva, the trained killer, the supposed ice queen, who had finally seen through Tim's facade to the amazing man underneath the computer geek which the world saw and underappreciated.

Suddenly, as if feeling her gaze, hearing her thoughts, Tim took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Catching her gaze, he smiled sheepishly at her, in mute apology for his nap. She smiled back, then sobered.

"Why, Tim?" she asked, seriously.

"Why what, Ziva?"

"Why do we work?"

Tim yawned and then furrowed his brow. "I don't understand."

"As you so eloquently put it last year, you are a gentleman and I am a killer. Why is it that we... _work_?"

Tim smiled again, his soft green eyes adoring. "Because we do, Ziva. Love doesn't see the differences. Love sees the soul."

"_That_ is just love-stricken nonsense, Tim," Ziva said.

"Sure it is," Tim agreed, still smiling. "That doesn't mean it's not true." He reached out his hand, inviting her to come closer. "Does it matter _why_ we work? We do. That's what matters."

Ziva looked at him, at his inviting hand, his loving gaze. Finally, she returned his smile. "No, you are right. It does not matter."

"Then..." Tim gestured again.

Ziva smiled again and crawled across the blanket, settling herself in his arms. "We do work, don't we," she said.

"Yes, we do," he whispered in her ear. Eventually, he fell asleep again, but this time, Ziva slept as well, relishing the feeling of sleeping in Tim's arms, lulled into dreams by the rain lashing the window and the slow beat of his heart.

They just worked.


End file.
